


Eromenos

by illuminate



Series: cupbearer [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, vampire!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminate/pseuds/illuminate
Summary: "This is going to drastically cut down how often I get laid.” Grantaire says, half laughter-half frustration. “I like having sex with you. I think we keep getting better at it.”“Me too,” Enjolras agrees “I’m sorry.”“Don’t be. One of your turn-offs is the idea of hurting me. That’s not a bad thing, Enjolras, and it’s not surprising.”In which overlap becomes a problem, Grantaire is the expert at Enjolras-wrangling and Enjolras once again turns to the ancient Greeks to explain his feelings.





	Eromenos

“We need to do something about Eponine”, is the first thing Grantaire says when Enjolras gets home. Grantaire is lying on their biggest couch and seems to have been napping before Enjolras got home, judging by his slow heart rate. The second thing he says is “oof,” when Enjolras crawls on top of him. 

Enjolras takes no notice of Grantaire’s groan, since Grantaire is  only play-acting . Enjolras’ body doesn’t weigh very much, being more magic than flesh and blood.  In contrast  Grantaire’s body is reassuringly human, reassuringly warm and alive. Enjolras rubs his cheek against Grantaire’s shoulder, while the ache he has had in his chest since he left that morning ease s and disappear s .

Enjolras has been thinking about Plato’s myth on the origin of love lately. Plato wrote that people were originally made with four arms and four legs and two heads, until the gods, feeling threatened, split them in two. Romantic love then, is the desire to be whole again, to find your matching other half and never wanting to be separated again.

Sharing one body sounds nice. Restful. If Enjolras could melt his body into Grantaire’s and rest there for a while, he would. 

He gets anxious when they are apart, worried that something will happen to Grantaire - irrationally so, he knows. Grantaire is tied to him, have been for nearly 200 years. Enjolras can always feel the connection in his head, the points where Grantaire’s mind is tied to his own, where he has tangled them together. If anything truly dangerous happened to Grantaire, anything life-threatening, he would feel the connection weaken. Even so, Enjolras feels an anxious knot appear in his chest whenever Grantaire goes out of sight.  An ache that doesn’t disappear until he can touch Grantaire and reassure himself that he is okay. 

The physicality of his own need is what makes him think of Plato and shared bodies split in half. The weight of the knot in his chest that he can’t make go away, despite the fact that his body is ruled more by his own power of will than physical law. The fact that simply looking and listening and smelling isn’t enough, but he has to touch Grantaire and feel the warm thrum of his heartbeat before he can breathe fully again. It makes him wonder if it i s more than worry ,  that maybe there is something in the make-up of his body that protests distance from Grantaire, that craves closeness.

Thankfully, there has been nothing stopping Enjolras from getting as close as he wants lately.

”Hello Sunshine”, Grantaire murmurs. He wraps an arm around Enjolras’ back and kisses the top of Enjolras’ head. 

Enjolras sighs. He likes being wrapped up in Grantaire like this. He wonders if Grantaire ever imagines melting together into a creature with four arms and legs.

”What’s that about Ariel?” Enjolras asks. He shifts his head up, so he can press his nose into the crook of Grantaire’s neck. Grantaire has showered recently, but Enjolras can still smell traces of exertion on his skin, beneath the soap. No bad stress smells. It smells like he had fun. Enjolras concentrates and carefully, very carefully, follows the threads where Grantaire’s mind touches his and looks _inside_, until he feels the movement of Grantaire’s thoughts. A twirling pattern emerges that Enjolras recognizes as amusement.

”She knows something weird is going on and she’s trying to beat it out of me”, Grantaire says. The vibrations in Grantaire’s throat and chest ruins Enjolras’ concentration. Just as he slips out of Grantaire’s mind again, Enjolras notices an out-of-sync shifting behind the twirling amusement. It might be worry, but he isn’t sure. He hasn’t had very much practice in reading the patterns yet. It isn’t very long since Grantaire explicitly gave him permission to look and he had felt too guilty to do it much before that.

“Marius needs to talk to her”, Grantaire continues, “He should have done it weeks ago.”

They had all agreed that Ariel should be told about the magic. There had however been some discussion on whether she should also be told about her own reincarnation, given that they had no mirror to show her, and that her previous life had by all accounts been miserable. At first they  ha d waited on Marius to decide, since he  ha d known her best as Eponine, but then Jehan had cut through, pointing out that no matter what she was like in her previous life, the current Ariel would be pissed at them for keeping that kind of secret from her. 

Still, it should be Marius job to tell her about Eponine. But Marius has had a lot to deal with, since getting his old memories back. Him and Cosette had gotten many more years back than any of the others. They had memories of growing old and raising children and grandchildren -who were  all now long dead and gone.

“Courfeyrac says Marius is gearing up to do it soon”, Enjolras says.

“He needs to. She knows we’re all hiding something. She told me that by the way, word for word.”

“And then she tried to beat it out of you?” Enjolras asks, raising his head so he can look at Grantaire.

“Oh no, she had her minions do it. She kept setting me up with people way above my level, and then she smiled evilly when they beat me up.” Grantaire can’t seem to stop himself from grinning, even as he pretends to complain. Enjolras can’t help smiling back. Grantaire always did like a good challenge when it came to sports.

“Sounds like kick-boxing was a success”, Enjolras says.

“Yeah, it was fun”, Grantaire admits, dropping the act. “It was worth the bruises I’m gonna be covered in tomorrow.”

“Let me see”, Enjolras says and sits up so he can slide both hands beneath Grantaire’s t-shirt. 

Running his hands across Grantaire’s chest does reveal several patches of warm skin, indicating forming bruises. There is nothing more serious than that to be found of course, because otherwise Enjolras would have noticed already. The bruises themselves don’t worry Enjolras. Quite the contrary. Grantaire likes friendly competition and regular exercise. He likes taking classes like kick-boxing or krav maga or fencing. But he only ever does those things when his mind is in a good place. It is always the first sign of a depressive episode when he stops going. Finding these kind of bruises on Grantaire is one of Enjolras’ favorite things because they are a proof that Grantaire is happy.

Grantaire makes an impatient noise and interrupts Enjolras’ inspection by pulling him down into a kiss, teasing and warm and over too quickly.

“What’s the prognosis then?” Grantaire asks. 

“I think you’ll live,” Enjolras hums and presses their mouths together again, more insistent this time. 

Grantaire matches Enjolras’ hunger with a happy hum and laces his fingers through Enjolras’ hair. Grantaire’s heart rate  picks  and he  starts smell ing of arousal, which only encourages the litany of  _mine, mine, mine _ that  is  start ing up in Enjolras’ head. 

Enjolras shifts up, dropping his elbows on either side of Grantaire’s head, boxing him in. Having Grantaire surrounded like this, caught in a small space with just Enjolras, pleases his more possessive instinct. It makes him feel settled and safe. It makes it easier to pull away to let Grantaire breath when he needs to.

Grantaire makes disgruntled noises when Enjolras pulls away, even as he proves the necessity by panting for breath. Enjolras tries making up for it by dropping kisses on his face - his forehead, both his cheeks and then his jaw. Grantaire only huffs and tries to pull Enjolras back to his mouth. Feeling contrary, Enjolras instead moves down and noses Grantaire’s t-shirt aside so he can trail his mouth over Grantaire’s collarbone and up to his shoulder. Grantaire groans encouragingly, winding his fingers tighter in Enjolras’ hair.

“Maybe…” Grantaire says, then pauses with a breathless laugh when Enjolras pushes his shirt up, looking for more skin. “Maybe bed rest will help,” he finishes.

Enjolras hums, not really listening. His attention is focused on finding the bruises on Grantaire’s skin and reexamining them with his mouth.  H is hand starts trailing along the edge of Grantaire’s pants, thumb exploring the contrast between fabric and skin.

“Okay, bed,” Grantaire says, tapping Enjolras repeatedly on the shoulder to catch his attention. 

“What?” Enjolras asks, looking up.

“Bed, Enjolras,” Grantaire repeats. He taps the hand Enjolras has curled up in the band of Grantaire’s pants “Especially if your hand is gonna go there.” 

Enjolras sighs, some annoyance creeping into the sound. It’s not that he  i s really bothered. It  i s just that Grantaire smells really good right now and Enjolras would rather not have to stop touching him long enough to move all the way into the bedroom. Grantaire seems to take it as more of a complaint than it was meant.

“We’re not having sex on the couch.” Grantaire says firmly, eyes narrowing in warning.

They  ha ve had this conversation before. Enjolras doesn’t fully understand why the idea bothers Grantaire so much, but  he hasn’t cared enough to argue the point before. This time though, he feels himself growing contrary in the face of Grantaire’s insistence. Enjolras shifts a little, bracing himself better should Grantaire try to push him off. He grins at Grantaire. 

“No?” Enjolras asks and pushes his hand down Grantaire’s pants. 

Grantaire breath hitches and he grabs Enjolras’ arm. “That’s cheating,” Grantaire says. He doesn’t try to pull Enjolras’ hand out, Enjolras notes with amusement. 

“Why can’t I have sex in my own living room?” Enjolras asks. 

“Because we have friends with super senses who will still be able to smell it weeks from now.”

Enjolras snorts “Trust me, this is nothing compared to what Courfeyrac and Marius’ couch smells like.”

“I know, you told me. But have you noticed how Bossuet never sits on that couch? I’ve seen him stand for twenty minutes straight rather than sit on that couch.” Grantaire counters. “I want Bossuet to sit down when he comes here.”

“We have more than one couch,” Enjolras points out. “And chairs.”

“So what? We’re going to pick a couch to have sex in?” Grantaire asks, trying to sound exasperated, but some laughter creeps in.

“I vote for this one,” Enjolras says and pushes his hand further down, until he’s cupping Grantaire’s cock through his boxers, which is clearly taking interest. Grantaire whines and pulls at Enjolras’ arm with no luck.

“No, nonono, cheating!” Grantaire gasps, letting go of Enjolras’ arm to hit him on the shoulder instead. “Enjolras, I don’t want to be people with a dedicated sex couch.”

“Why not? I’ll make it worth your while,” Enjolras says, and tries to capture Grantaire mouth with his own. Grantaire squirms and the kiss lands on his chin instead. Enjolras runs with it and scrapes his teeth over Grantaire’s jaw instead, careful not to break skin.

Granaries makes a sound, half moan-half laugh, and starts pushing against Enjolras’ chest, trying to get him off him. “Experience tells me – “ He pauses with a groan when Enjolras pushes back, showing him a few inches deeper into the couch. His heart rate picks up at that, with a noticeably response in the cock Enjolras is still cupping. “ – tells me you’ll also make it worth my while if we were in bed.” Grantaire manages to finish, breath uneven.

“True,” Enjolras admits.

“Okay, counteroffer,” Grantaire says. 

Enjolras hums to show he is listening and kisses the side of Grantaire’s throat. And Grantaire –

And something happens just then, because Grantaire is in the middle of saying “We move to the bed and  _I’ll_ make-“ when he abruptly stops talking and pushing  back and goes completely limp instead. 

Enjolras removes his hand and sits up – but he barely has time to panic because Grantaire  has already unfrozen , grabbing Enjolras’ wrist to stop him from moving further.

“Okay, um,” Grantaire says “I guess there’s no way you missed that.” He doesn’t look surprised by whatever just happened. He looks embarrassed, with the slight furrow in his forehead he gets when he’s trying to think of a good way to tell Enjolras something he won’t like.

Grantaire must know what that was, must have known  about it before now . After a moment of thought Enjolras knows it too, because his memory is very good and it doesn’t take long to connect this to every other time his mouth has been on Grantaire’s throat and Grantaire has gone limb. A trained response, Enjolras concludes, since he can only find memories of Grantaire doing it going a few decades back. And only when Enjolras is on top of him, it seems, which is a small mercy – Although not really, since that is because Enjolras likes pinning Grantaire when he  i s hungry and his instincts rule his head. Because there  i s a monster in his head that likes having Grantaire trapped when he tears open his throat.

Enjolras feels sick. He pulls his wrist out of Grantaire’s grip and scrambles off him, scrambles away until there’s a few feet between them. Here is the problem with being close. He is dangerous to Grantaire, infinitely so. If they were sharing  one body, it would only take a moment of lost control to hurt Grantaire irreparably. Enjolras has too much power over him. 

“Don’t freak out on me,” Grantaire says, sitting up. “It wasn’t that bad.” He reaches a hand out for Enjolras, beckoning him to come back.

Enjolras shakes his head and stays put. Grantaire’s face falls.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just a reflex. There are plenty of other places you can put your mouth.” 

Enjolras flinches “No. Not after that.”

“It really wasn’t that bad.” Grantaire insists. 

“It wasn’t? I had my hand on your cock and then you turned into _prey_.” Enjolras says harshly.

“I get why that is upsetting to you. But if I know how to keep it from happening again I don’t see why we have to stop.”

“Because it’s still in my head! I don’t want to touch you while that’s in my head. I can’t have any overlap.”

Grantaire sighs. He sits up straighter as his expression shifts into problem-solving mode. “Okay, overlap between what, Enjolras?”

“Blood and sex.”

“That’s kind of – You know that’s gonna be hard, right? Because there’s overlap. There’s a whole cultural thing with vampires as a metaphor for sex, and there’s well, me, and the thrall-thing.”

Enjolras grimaces. He always hates how casually Grantaire says ‘thrall’, like it is no big deal, like it doesn’t mean Enjolras  has put  Grantaire’s free will and personhood in permanent danger.

“I’m just saying a little overlap isn’t the end of the world. And panicking and running away when it happens isn’t going to help. I think it will turn into a ‘don’t think of the pink elephant’-situation. With you so worried about this, it will crop up in your head again when you least want it to.” Grantaire pauses, looking earnestly at Enjolras. 

Enjolras sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “What do you suggest then?”

“We work through it. Make it seem less dangerous. Like when I had ‘bad touch’-issues.” Grantaire says, making quotation marks with his fingers.

“_No_,” Enjolras snaps.

“Why not? What could happen?”

Enjolras almost laughs with frustration. “I could hurt you.” He says, simply, because that is the main concern. How easily he could hurt Grantaire is always the main concern. It is something Enjolras can never keep his eyes off because it rarely seems to figure into Grantaire’s priorities at all. 

“What in the world makes you think you would?” Grantaire asks. He pauses and the furrow in his forehead reappears, giving Enjolras a small warning before Grantaire continues “Is this related to that vampire in Charleroi that raped his thralls?”

Enjolras goes still, inhumanly still, locking every muscle in his body – because if he allows himself to move, smashing something is the only way to handle the flood of anger and disgust crashing through him. 

It wasn’t just a vampire in Charleroi. Enjolras has smelled it on vampires with thralls many times before. Not all of them, thankfully, less than half, but it seems… common. And why wouldn’t it? To them thralls are mindless puppets, they’re just things for their owners to use as they please. 

It’s not something Enjolras ever tells Grantaire about. It’s not something Grantaire needs to know, since the end result is the same. A vampire with a thrall is a vampire who has enslaved somebody and destroyed their mind. It’s someone Enjolras needs to stop whether they  ha ve added rape to their list of atrocities or not. Grantaire certainly knows about it anyway. He makes an effort to know all there is to know of vampire s . Grantaire could probably tell Enjolras exactly how common it is among vampires in percentages. Grantaire wouldn’t tell Enjolras that though. He keeps stuff from Enjolras that he doesn’t need to know the same way Enjolras does  for him . 

And then there had been Charleroi, where it had been clear even to someone with Grantaire’s limited senses what had happened to that poor girl. Neither of them could pretend the other one didn’t know about that one.

“I know, bringing that up isn’t very helpful for your calm,” Grantaire says ruefully. “But we agreed to talk about stuff from now on and it is a factor in this, isn’t it?”

Enjolras unlocks his muscles enough to nod slightly. “It doesn’t make it easier.”

Grantaire nods in response. He considers Enjolras for a moment, and then reaches his hand out again, offering it to Enjolras.

Enjolras doesn’t take it.

Grantaire huffs with impatience. “Enjolras, stop acting like a touch will hurt me.” Grantaire says, a note of command in his tone he rarely uses. Enjolras finds his mouth twitching up in response, a surge of affection welling up, finds himself relaxing a little. As much as it frustrates him, Grantaire’s complete lack of fear is also reassuring. He goes back to the couch and takes Grantaire’s hand. Sits down so he doesn’t tower over Grantaire. It’s warm. Grantaire’s skin is always reassuringly warm. 

“Better.” Grantaire says, tension Enjolras hadn’t noticed before being lost on Grantaire’s next exhale.

Apologetically, Enjolras tugs their joined hands up and kisses the back of Grantaire’s hand “I know you’re not fragile.” 

There’s a small hitch in Grantaire’s breathing, small enough that anyone with normal hearing would miss it. Grantaire slumps a little  further , leaning closer to Enjolras. He catches himself a moment later, leaning away again, but the moment is enough for the heat and scent from his skin to envelope Enjolras. The smell of both their arousal still clings to Grantaire from before. It settles heavy and sweet on Enjolras’ tongue. 

Grantaire clears his throat and squeezes Enjolras’ hand, his expression growing serious. “I know I have a problem with putting you on a pedestal. _ Your_ problem is twisting yourself into knots trying to protect me from hypothetical scenarios.”

“Sometimes they remain hypothetical because I worry about them.” Enjolras points out. “Not - I do agree. I know you’re right, but I also know I can do a lot of damage if I’m not careful.” Enjolras’ remembers the time he had realized he could give Grantaire orders. It was a single word, _no_, and he had felt Grantaire’s mind _bend_ under the force of it. Grantaire’s face had gone blank and he’d stopped talking mid-sentence like he suddenly couldn’t argue anymore – because he _couldn’t_, because Enjolras had taken the ability away from him. It is one of Enjolras’ worst memories.

“If you did slip up I would tell you.” Grantaire promises. “You’re not going to hurt me, but if you did I would make you stop. I know I’m not always good at taking care of myself, but you can trust me to take care of you. I wouldn’t let you hurt me. I know what that would do to you.”

Enjolras opens his mouth, closes it again. Blinks while he digests that. 

While the promise is based on some of Grantaire’s signature twisted logic, that does actually make Enjolras feel better. He wished it wasn’t so, but he would have doubted Grantaire’s ability to keep that promise if it was based on his own well-being. Protecting Enjolras is on the other hand something Grantaire has always been very good at.

That still doesn’t fix the problem though.

“Okay,” Enjolras settles on. “But listen. Maybe sex doesn’t make me more dangerous to you – not more than I am at any other time. I still don’t like sex overlapping with anything thrall-related in my head. I don’t like thinking about that, I _never_ like thinking about that. Nothing you do will make me feel good while that is in my head.”

Grantaire studies him for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair,” he says, a little grudgingly. “No working through it then.” 

“You’re not happy with that.” Enjolras observes.

Grantaire huffs. “Of course, I’m not happy with that. This is going to drastically cut down how often I get laid.” Grantaire says, half laughter-half frustration. “I like having sex with you. I think we keep getting better at it.”

“Me too,” Enjolras agrees “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. One of your turn-offs is the idea of hurting me. That’s not a bad thing, Enjolras, and it’s not surprising.” Grantaire hesitates and makes an odd, almost nervous grimace. “So uhm, since the mood is already ruined and, you know, speaking of turn-offs… I have a question. A sex question.”

Enjolras frowns “About turn-offs?”

“Heh, maybe. Not really. This just got me thinking… We have been having as much sex as we could get away with for nearly two weeks now, but we haven’t done any actual fucking in that time.”

“What?” Enjolras says, thrown for a moment. Surprise makes Enjolras tighten his grip on Grantaire’s hand. Bone and cartilage grind together in protest. Enjolras lets go in alarm. 

Grantaire huffs and wiggles his hand a bit in the air to show it’s fine.“Anal sex.” Grantaire says then. He makes a lewd gesture with his hands, like Enjolras needs it further explained.

“Yes, I know what you meant!” Enjolras says, annoyed and more flustered than he wouldd like to admit. “I don’t - I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

“It’s not a complaint - I have no complaints – It’s just an observation,” Grantaire insists. “I haven’t suggested it either. We haven’t really been in a mind for anything that takes preparation.”

Enjolras nods. They have been doing some handjobs and a lot of blowjobs – which were  really fun because Enjolras does n’t t need to breathe and Grantaire is good with his tongue – but mostly just pure friction, because a lot of the time Enjolras loses the ability to think of anything beyond getting as much skin contact as physically possible.

“But now I’m wondering if it was related to any of… this.” Grantaire continues and gestures vaguely at the space between them. 

Enjolras grimaces “If I had been thinking about… about Charleroi, it would have been a problem before now.”

He can tell from Grantaire’s expression that that wasn’t exactly what he  ha d been asking about. “No, I know. I was thinking more, ugh… No, never mind.”

“What?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “Never mind. We’re both messes, we know that. Let’s just… What’s the plan here, chief?” 

“Nothing right now, I suppose.” Enjolras admits. 

“So, ignoring it and waiting for it to go away?” Grantaire says, and he doesn’t have to say again that he thinks this is a bad plan. It is clear enough from his tone and the tilt of his head. 

Enjolras sighs. “Yeah”

  


***

  


Grantaire had been right how hard it was to  _not_ think of something. It  i s fine when Enjolras is occupied with something else, but whenever he thinks of anything sex-related – which is a lot around Grantaire – it takes a dark turn. It is hard to keep his mind on safe topics when Grantaire is right there. He wants Grantaire and has grown used to only needing to reach out to get what he wants, especially when they are alone in the apartment like this. 

The bedroom in particular proves to be a problem. Enjolras always changes the sheets after they have dirtied them, but that doesn’t mean much with his sense of smell. The bed still smells of the two of them and sex, and it is very much not helping. He keeps thinking of the last time they were in bed and then mentally flinching away from it. After experiencing no improvement after many hours of the avoidance-tactic, Enjolras reluctantly ends up deciding to sleep on the couch by himself.

“Good thing we didn’t have sex in the living room,” Grantaire remarks, having decided to be amused by all this instead of frustrated. Enjolras suspects Grantaire is doing so in an effort to reassure him. 

It feels weird letting Grantaire go to bed without him. Enjolras doesn’t need as much sleep, but he has been follosing Grantaire to bed lately, because doing so reliably ends in the sort of pleasurable things he is trying not to think about right now. He will get up by himself once he is rested, but he has been making a habit of getting back into bed when he can hear Grantaire starting to wake up again. He likes seeing Grantaire in his bed. It is a double whammy on an instinctual level; It pleases his possessive urges and is also the safest space he can think of keeping him. Even beyond that though, he likes the excuse to curl up around Grantaire, who will stroke his hair and carry a conversation even when half-asleep.

It is not a surprise then, that Enjolras ends up joining Grantaire in bed. He spends most of the night half-deliberately avoiding sleep by going through all his emails in one long stretch. One of the buildings he owns in Paris is undergoing renovation, and it is always a surprise how much paperwork that kind of thing generates for him to read and sign. By the time he is done, it is several hours past midnight and he is too tired to resist the tempting call of Grantaire’s breathing from the bedroom.

Grantaire is sleeping curled up on his side, the way he always does when Enjolras isn’t there using him as a pillow. Enjolras spends a moment at the foot of the bed, strategizing, before crawling in behind Grantaire. He presses his face into the curve at the top of Grantaire’s spine and is careful to keep that as the only point of contact. Grantaire is as usual sleeping in nothing but boxers, leaving a welcoming expanse of bare skin. Enjolras keeps his hands to himself and focuses on breathing in the scent of Grantaire’s skin. 

Grantaire smells of Enjolras – Grantaire has smelled of Enjolras ever since  he woke him up at  the barricade. There is a distinction though, between Grantaire smelling of Enjolras because magic changed Grantaire’s own scent, and Grantaire smelling even  _more_ of Enjolras because they have been close and the scent rubbed off on him. Enjolras can tell the difference and prefers the second one very much. That is one of the reasons the bed has grown important to him. His scent seems to cling better to Grantaire after they have slept in the same bed than it does when he simply touches Grantaire. 

It used to be hard when Grantaire had sex with other people. Enjolras would be miserable and jealous, which only compounded when Grantaire came back smelling different. He always washed before reappearing, but his scent would still be changed, wrong somehow. This used to bother Enjolras even before he realized how he loved Grantaire. It made it easier that Grantaire would always come home to sleep, no matter how late. Then, if he slept in Enjolras’ bed, he would smell right again the next day, without Enjolras even touching him. 

Enjolras had always tried not to touch Grantaire when he slept. Experience had proved that a sleeping Grantaire never wakes from anything Enjolras does, unless Enjolras wants him to. Enjolras has moved him around and changed his clothes in the past, without ever disturbing him from sleep. So Enjolras tried not to touch him without a good reason, because unless Enjolras wanted him to, Grantaire could never wake up and tell him to stop.

That chain of thought makes Enjolras consider waking Grantaire now. Not because he has any doubt Grantaire wants to be touched, but because Grantaire used to have rules about touching too. They have talked about some of them. Like the fact that Grantaire was always worried about invading Enjolras’ space in his sleep. Grantaire used to sleep on his back, Enjolras remembers. He started curling onto his side when they hit the twentieth century and has gotten closer and closer to the edge of the bed over the years. Like something was slowly chasing him out.

Enjolras concentrates and looks into Grantaire’s mind. It is easier when he is asleep. The movements on the surface are slower, which means Enjolras can be less worried about accidentally  disturbing anything he shouldn’t  touch . Enjolras doesn’t look very far this time, just enough to check how deeply Grantaire is sleeping. Not very deeply, judging by the dancing patterns visible just below the surface. 

Enjolras pulls his awareness out of Grantaire’s mind. He then deliberately rubs his nose against the back of Grantaire’s neck. Grantaire’s breathing and heart rate picks up slightly.

“..’jolras” Grantaire mumbles a moment later. “Couch no good?”

“Missed you.” Enjolras says.

Grantaire makes a pleased hum and reaches back, hand fumbling a little, before finding Enjolras’ hand. He pulls Enjolras’ arm across to wrap around his middle and loosely tangles their fingers together. Enjolras can feel Grantaire’s stomach  move against his hand with every breath.

“Want me on the couch with you?” Grantaire offers, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I like you here.”

“Thought that was the problem.” Grantaire mumbles and presses his face more fully into his pillow, making himself more comfortable. He is in danger of falling asleep again at any moment, Enjolras can tell, as soon as he is reassured Enjolras doesn’t need anything from him.

“No, this is okay.” Enjolras says. It is. With his nose pressed against Grantaire’s neck like this, he is mostly breathing in the scent of Grantaire’s skin, which smells of contentment and sleep right now. “You should go back to sleep.”

“So should you.” Grantaire says, words muffled by his pillow. 

“That’s the plan”

Grantaire hums. “Glad you came back.” He adds and squeezes Enjolras’ hand. A moment later he slips back into sleep, making his grip go loose. 

Enjolras follows not long after, falling asleep to the steady sound of Grantaire’s breathing.

  


***

  


Enjolras wakes surrounded by warm skin that smells of home. They have shifted in their sleep. Grantaire is now on his back with Enjolras half on top of him, face buried in Grantaire’s shoulder, arm across his chest and one leg settled in the space between Grantaire’s legs. Grantaire is still asleep, but when Enjolras shifts, the pressure of an erection against his thigh suggest Grantaire won’t mind being woken. 

Enjolras licks the skin beneath his mouth, tasting Grantaire and himself, but also traces of cotton and the soap Grantaire uses. Grantaire starts waking with a hum, his hand moving slowly against Enjolras’ back. Taking that as approval, Enjolras finds a new piece of skin to taste, marveling a little at all the bare skin available to him. 

“This ‘s a nice dream.” Grantaire mumbles, one of his hands finding its way beneath the t-shirt Enjolras slept in. His hand feels big against Enjolras’ skin, the way it spans his ribs when Grantaire’s spreads his fingers. “Apollo in my bed.” 

Enjolras presses his thigh into the warm pressure of Grantaire’s erection. Grantaire moans in response, which is nothing compared to how it makes his pulse jump beneath his skin. His hand  briefly  digs into Enjolras’ side before moving downward with a clear purpose, cupping Enjolras’ ass.

“Come here” Grantaire says and uses his grip to pull Enjolras up into a filthy kiss, licking sloppily into Enjolras mouth while squeezing his ass.

“Good morning.” Enjolras says, words muffled against Grantaire’s mouth.

“Good.” Grantaire agrees. He noses up, rubbing their noses together, still a little clumsy from having just woken. It makes Enjolras chuckle – which turns into a moan when Grantaire then shifts enough to align their erections and grinds up.

“R,” Enjolras pants in approval.

“Mmh, good?” Grantaire asks, tightening his grip on Enjolras’ ass while rolling his hips up again, finding a lazy rhythm. With his other hand he brushes his thumb over Enjolras’ jaw and kisses him again – an almost chaste glide of lips. It feels luxurious combined with the movement of their hips.

Enjolras turns his head into Grantaire’s hand, nuzzling into the palm. He settles with his mouth resting against Grantaire’s wrist as he tries shifting his lower half to get better leverage to grind down. 

This is where it goes wrong. 

Enjolras finds a good angle, making Grantaire whine in response on the next roll of hips. It is a low whine, a small sound nearly drowned out in an exhale. It is a sound similar to – not quite the same, but very similar to – a soft sound Grantaire nearly always makes when Enjolras bites him. The sound in itself probably wouldn’t have been enough, but it is combined with the thrumming of Grantaire’s pulse right against Enjolras’ lips and Grantaire’s body beneath him and – 

“Fuck!” 

Enjolras can’t get off Grantaire fast enough. He rolls away, to the edge of the bed and folds in on himself, curling his hands into fists and hiding them against his stomach. The air is thick with the smell of both of their arousal and it  i s disorienting how quickly that went from a good to a bad thing.

Grantaire’s breathing is loud and uneven behind Enjolras. After a moment Enjolras hears him sit up and shuffle closer. His knee brushes Enjolras’ hip as he settles behind him.

“Sorry.” Enjolras says. “I should have stayed on the couch.”

Grantaire sighs and Enjolras hears him shift before the weight of his forehead lands between Enjolras’ shoulder blades. Enjolras listens to Grantaire’s breathing slow down. Gradually, the rhythm of his own breathing shifts to match Grantaire’s, until the inhales and exhales are in perfect sync.

“Would it help to know that I have never been scared you would slip up and bite me when you shouldn’t?” Grantaire says, warm puffs of air hitting Enjolras’ back with each word.

“…no.” Enjolras says. “Not being scared doesn’t mean you’ve never thought I would. You’ve never been scared because the idea of me slipping up doesn’t scare you, not because you are certain I won’t.” 

Grantaire lightly knocks his forehead against Enjolras’ back like a reprimand. “Ugh, lawyer.” 

“I’m right though.”

“Yeah, but there’s also a point in the fact that it doesn’t scare me. I’ve seen you lose control and you may be wilder but you never want to hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Enjolras agrees, using Grantaire’s words to make his own point.

Grantaire huffs, conceding the point. “You don’t like having it in your head - which is fair. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. There’s a lot of overlap between feeding and sex. Both are things that feels really good that you only do with me, usually in bed. Unless you change those similarities you’re gonna have associations.”

“…We could always start having sex on the couch.”

“No.” Grantaire says “Biting me in another room isn’t an option?”

Enjolras turns his head to glance at Grantaire, but he can’t see his face at that angle. Grantaire already knows the answer to that and so must be baiting Enjolras for something. “Bedroom feels safer.” Enjolras says anyway.

“The bathroom has a lock and would be easier to clean.”

“And would be highly uncomfortable. Do you want to nap on the floor when you get tired after?” 

“No” Grantaire says and reveals his game by shifting closer, stretching up and hooking his chin over Enjolras’ shoulder with a satisfied air. Enjolras realizes as Grantaire does so that he has uncurled without noticing, relaxing from the tense position he had been in. The satisfaction in Grantaire’s words makes it clear he had been waiting for Enjolras to relax - that he had deliberately steered the conversation in a nonsensical direction.

Grantaire is good at that, at prodding Enjolras until he gets him in the direction he wants. He rarely bothers with subtlety, which contributes to the effectiveness. Enjolras has a hard time resisting Grantaire’s transparent manipulations. They are so blatant they seem more like a way of telling Enjolras what he wants than an honest attempt at control.

They have always used touch as the main source of comfort between them. Grantaire started it and Enjolras – worried about overstepping Grantaire’s boundaries – had copied him until it was second nature. He wonders now if this display is meant for him or if Grantaire himself needs reassurance. Grantaire tends to twist things in his head to his own detriment. Enjolras knows he often misses it when Grantaire’s interpretation of events has taken a dark turn. It wouldn’t be surprising if Enjolras repeatedly pulling away from Grantaire had reawakened some of Grantaire’s insecurities. Enjolras remembers the tension Grantaire had held when Enjolras wouldn’t take his hand the day before.

Sometimes Enjolras wishes that Grantaire had the ability to look into his head, that Grantaire could see how important he is to Enjolras, how Enjolras’ holds their connection in the center of his mind. It didn’t start there. He had tied them together somewhere at the edge, but Enjolras has been constantly twisting himself tighter around that connection over the years, tangling them more and more together. Now Grantaire is the safest place he can be in the center, with everything else moving around it. Enjolras is not sure what would happen to his mind if the connection to Grantaire was to be removed from it. Maybe the sudden hole in the center would make it collapse in on itself. But then, if Grantaire could see the state of Enjolras’ mind, he might also realize how afraid Enjolras is every time Grantaire goes out of his sight. Grantaire would never go anywhere on his own again if he knew about that.

“I love you.” Enjolras says.

“I know you do.” Grantaire responds, with an ease that would probably fool anyone else. It is however clear to Enjolras how pleased he is, the slight increase in his heartbeat, how there’s an added warmth to his voice.

“And you were right that simply trying not to think of it was a bad plan.”

“Pink elephants.” Grantaire says, a grin clear in his voice. “What’s the new plan then?”

Enjolras shrugs, careful not to dislodge Grantaire as he does so. “I’m open to suggestions. You are kind of the expert here.”

“…Expert on what? Messed up thought-patterns? Sex?”

“The expert on… handling me. Enjolras-wrangling Joly called it.” Enjolras clarifies.

“Oh. Yeah. I am the foremost expert on that.” Grantaire agrees, sounding a little surprised. 

Grantaire goes quiet for a moment, before shifting away from Enjolras, moving to sit next to him instead. Enjolras feels a little bereft when the wall of warmth against his back disappears with him. Enjolras turns to look at Grantaire, assuming that is why he moved. 

Grantaire is wearing a serious expression “I usually… I don’t want to accidentally freak you more out than you already are. If you want me to try and find a work-around, you’re going to have to tell me more about this. I need to know what it is that sets you off. You weren’t exactly hurting me just now and I don’t think I did anything to-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Enjolras hurries to say. “It wasn’t anything specific. It was a mix of things – of associations.”

“So… Reduce the number of similarities?” Grantaire says, more thinking out loud than a real question. Enjolras shrugs.

Grantaire frowns, eyes going distant for a moment. It’s very clear when he gets an idea. The frown disappears and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth forms, which Enjolras recognizes as satisfaction, as Grantaire thinking he solved something tricky. At the same time there’s a narrowing around Grantaire’s eyes that means he’s laying a plan. 

“Can I try something?” Grantaire asks.

Enjolras nods, a little hesitant.

Grantaire moves quickly. With no further explanation he swings a leg across Enjolras and the next moment he is  straddling Enjolras’ lap.

Enjolras’ hands automatically go to Grantaire’s hips to steady him. He tenses when he realizes that there’s a lot of bare skin in front of him suddenly. On top of him. Grantaire smells of everything good right now, sleep and comfort and both their arousal from before. Grantaire is a little taller than Enjolras like this. And yeah, this solves the association of him holding Grantaire down, but he highly doubts that it is going to fix everything else.

“I’m not sure-“ Enjolras begins

“Shh, I’ve got an idea.” Grantaire interrupts. He takes Enjolras’ face between his hands and kisses him.

It  is a soft kiss, slow and sweet, like it’s designed to make him relax. It doesn’t take long at all before Enjolras’ doubt slides to the back of his mind in favor of enjoying the kiss. Grantaire spends a great deal of time like that, slowly mapping Enjolras’ mouth. Eventually he moves down, kissing Enjolras’ jaw and then his neck. Grantaire’s hands settle on the back of Enjolras’ neck and on his upper arm, rubbing soothing circles. 

Enjolras gets the niggling thought that whatever Grantaire has planned, he seems to be making a great effort into assuring Enjolras is very calm and relaxed before he starts. 

“What-“

“Just give me a sec.” Grantaire cuts him off again. 

Enjolras sighs and tilts his head back to give Grantaire better access. Grantaire hums with approval, before nudging the collar of Enjolras’ t-shirt aside and biting above his collarbone.

Enjolras jerks in surprise. Grantaire doesn’t bite hard enough to break skin, but for a moment Enjolras is overwhelmed by how it makes his insides roll around in shock. There is a sharp sting of  _wrongness_ and  _outrage_ directed at Grantaire _, _ an instinctive urge to  _punish him_ \-  which Enjolras immediately tamps down on hard.

Grantaire makes a wordless soothing sound and squeezes the back of Enjolras’ neck while licking across the skin he just bit. The feelings in Enjolras’ stomach twists around, quells, and settles as an odd shaky feeling in the pit of his stomach instead. 

It is  _exhilarating_ .

Some of Enjolras worst instincts are tied to blood, to taking power from others through force and violence. Grantaire biting him is a red flag in front of those instincts. It is a flagrant challenge to those same instincts that insists Enjolras owns Grantaire. A challenge that Grantaire clearly  just  won; the worst parts of Enjolras’ psyche quashed and defanged.

“Do that again.” Enjolras says.

Grantaire obliges, moving up to bite him on the side of the neck. It’s more intense this time. Even though Enjolras is prepared he still jerks a little. The sting of  _wrong_ is shorter, is quickly squashed down again by the shaky feeling. This time when Grantaire soothes the skin with his tongue, it twists into a distinctly good kind of shaky feeling. 

Oh. Grantaire isn’t just biting him and getting away with it. Grantaire is biting him and it feels  _good_ . 

“Oh, I love you.” Enjolras says, feeling a little lightheaded

Grantaire straightens up. “I thought that might work for you. You always go all happy and soft when I give you a hickey.”

“I like seeing them later.” Enjolras says. It’s a softer form of possessiveness. Safer than the urge to mark Grantaire , and much shorter-lived to Enjolras’ frustration. Hickeys never last longer than a few hours on his skin.

Enjolras leans forward and noses against Grantaire’s cheek. Grantaire squeezes the back of Enjolras’ neck again, sending a frisson of pleasure down Enjolras’ spine. He lets his head drop and presses his face against the side of Grantaire’s neck.

“So my thinking is that it would be sad if we had to stop doing something we like because it reminds you of feeding. It’d be limiting if we could only do things that were “opposite”. I think instead we could try and change your… interpretation of what we do, how you think of it. Change it so it’s different from feeding and maybe that would actually be more effective than trying to avoid certain behaviors. So it doesn’t really matter what we do, the important part is in your – our heads.”

“Biting me seems very… opposite behavior though.” Enjolras points out.

“Yeah, that was… Seems to me that this is all thrall-related. So one quick way to make it feel different is if we agreed that I’m in charge of sex from now on. In control. Biting you seemed like a shortcut.”

It takes Enjolras a moment to parse that. When he does he snorts. “You bit me to establish dominance.”

“I was pretty sure you would like it – which you did.” Grantaire tugs at the back of Enjolras’ neck, guiding Enjolras back so he can look him in the eye. “Does this make sense to you? You think it would work?”

On his own end, Enjolras has no doubt, not with the bite on his neck still warm and stinging like a reminder. There  i s not just himself to consider though. Enjolras takes a moment to study Grantaire before responding.

Grantaire doesn’t like being in charge, is the thing. Not that he isn’t capable – he is extremely capable. He takes over when Enjolras’ needs him to and has always kept both of them safe no matter how precarious the circumstances. He is good at thinking on his feet and is often better at reading people than Enjolras is. Despite this, leading sits uneasily on Grantaire. He always hands control back with clear relief as soon as Enjolras is capable of taking over again.

Right now though, Enjolras reads no unease on Grantaire, no trepidation at the prospect of being in charge. The offer seems to have been made with complete confidence in his own abilities – which is a rare look on Grantaire. The good-shakey feeling in Enjolras’ stomach flares up again for a moment. 

Enjolras picks up Grantaire’s hand – the one not resting on the back of his neck. He is quickly growing attached to the one enveloping the back of his neck – and kisses the center of Grantaire’s palm. “You _ are_ the foremost expert on handling me.” 

Grantaire’s heartbeat kicks up noticeably. “That I am.” Grantaire agrees, a slow smile spreading on his face. He curls his hand around Enjolras’ jaw and kisses him.

Grantaire is good at kissing. Not that Enjolras thinks himself bad at it, but Grantaire is on another level. While Enjolras is mostly following instinct and what feels good, Grantaire knows exactly what he is doing. With a few seconds of dedicated attention Grantaire can reduce Enjolras’ world until his head holds nothing but the slide of their mouths. Several of their friends have walked in on them making out because Enjolras had been too distracted to notice their approach. 

With that as the standard, Enjolras hadn’t realized Grantaire had been holding back until now. Grantaire delves into Enjolras’ mouth with such focus and determination that barely a second has passed before Enjolras is gone on it. There is no question of control, Enjolras is struggling just to keep up with Grantaire, to contribute more than merely sitting there, shivering every time Grantaire curls his tongue just  _so._ His hands scrambles briefly for a good hold along Grantaire’s side, for some way to keep from getting swept away. Grantaire seems to notice. His fingers dig in a little, turning the hand on Enjolras’ jaw from a touch to a hold – not enough to hurt, but enough that it is impossible to ignore. Grounding. It goes straight to Enjolras’ cock. Enjolras gasps out a wordless noise of encouragement, leaning into Grantaire’s grip.

“Oh, this is definitely working for you.” Grantaire murmurs, deliberately rocking down against Enjolras’ erection. 

Enjolras whines and nods as much as he can with Grantaire’s grip still tight around his jaw. 

“Look at you…” Grantaire whispers, voice reverent as he pulls back a few inches. He presses a thumb beneath Enjolras’ jaw, making him tilt his head back, exposing his throat. “I can’t make you do anything, we both know that. You’re much stronger than me. I can’t hold you or move you anywhere unless you let me. But you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

Enjolras shudders, stomach twisting with something that feels molten-hot. “You’re in charge.” Enjolras says. 

“I’m gonna take such good care of you.” Grantaire says and pushes Enjolras backwards, making both of them fall flat on the bed. 

Enjolras immediately misses Grantaire’s hands on him, which lets go to brace Grantaire’s fall. Enjolras would much rather have had Grantaire’s weight land on him. Before Enjolras can complain about it, Grantaire’s mouth is on the first bite he made and Enjolras forgets any displeasure at this new arrangement. The skin had started healing while they kissed, but when Grantaire scrapes his teeth over it, it starts stinging beautifully again.

Grantaire maddeningly doesn’t bite Enjolras again. He spends a while licking and sucking at the skin, occasionally showing a promising hint of teeth, but doesn’t bite down again. Enjolras squirms, caught between pleasure and frustration. He wrap his legs around Grantaire’s hips and for a moment he gets them lined perfectly up, their erections pressed together – but then Grantaire pulls Enjolras up a few inches, and Enjolras’ cock is pressed against Grantaire’s stomach instead.

“R,” Enjolras says, meaning to sound reproachful, but it comes out more like a whine than he had intended.

“Just need to check in for a sec.” Grantaire says, raising himself on his elbows to look down at Enjolras. “Because I didn’t necessarily mean we have to do this right now.”

Most of Enjolras’ impatience eases away at that explanation. Checking in is important. 

“Now seems perfect to me. I don’t have any plans until noon. Do you have anywhere else you need to be?” Enjolras asks, running a hand up Grantaire’s side, enjoying the slide of warm skin beneath his hand. 

Grantaire’s eyelids drop a little, and he shakes his head.

“Okay, then you should bite me again.”

Grantaire huffs, amused. “If we’re doing this, that’s not really up to you, Sunshine.” He drops a chaste kiss on the top of Enjolras’ head.

For a moment, Enjolras is completely surrounded. Until now, Enjolras has had his head free while Grantaire has been on top of him. As Grantaire leans down to reach the top of his head though, Enjolras’ face is shut in. All he can see above him is Grantaire, and all the air he breathes in is from the small space between them, much heavier with both their scent than the air around them. 

It’s over too fast. Grantaire moves back again, still holding himself above Enjolras, looking down at him with a thoughtful expression.

“Can I make a request then?” Enjolras asks, tightening his legs wrapped around Grantaire.

“Of course.”

“I think you should fuck me.”

Grantaire’s eyes goes wide. His pulse accelerate with a speed Enjolras usually associates with fight-or-flight kicking in, although the change in his scent speaks of something more pleasant than that. Despite this, it only takes a second for Grantaire’s expression to turn serious. 

“You know we don’t have to do that, right? This can work many different ways.”

“I know, but I want you to. I want you in me.”

Grantaire makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine. To Enjolras great disappointment he then pulls away, unwrapping Enjolras’ legs and sitting back on his heels.

“Okay,” Grantaire says, voice strained. He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, then we need to talk a little first. Have you done this before?”

Enjolras hesitates. 

Since he was turned, he has had near perfect recollection. In comparison, his memories from before that, from when he was human, all seem oddly unclear and fragile. They are full of holes and easily distorted when he tries examining them too closely. This means Enjolras honestly doesn’t know the answer to Grantaire’s question.

“…yes.” Enjolras says, because that is his first instinct. There was a boy, he is certain, although he can’t remember his name, or what exactly they did. He has one relatively clear memory of using a cravat to wipe cum off something – his thigh, or stomach? - but the rest is just impressions of intimacy and excitement at trying something new.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth the vagueness of those memories makes him doubt himself though. Maybe he just thought about it a lot, and it is those fantasies he remembers. He feels awful then, because he has never lied to Grantaire before – withheld information sure, but never outright lied – so he corrects: “I don’t really… I think so, but my memory from then is hazy.”

“Let’s assume it’s no then. To stay on the safe side.” Grantaire says slowly, like he is mulling the words over as he says them. The next moment he straightens with an expression of sudden realization. “Oh damn.” He mutters and gets out of the bed.

“What?” Enjolras asks and sits up. His alarm grows when Grantaire picks up his pants from the floor and starts putting them on. “What are you doing?”

“We need lube. A proper made-for-the purpose lube, because improvising with household items sucks.”

“Oh. No, we’ve got that.”

“What?” Grantaire pauses, one pant-leg on.

“I’ve got lube.” Enjolras says. “It’s in the linen closet.”

“In the linen closet?” Grantaire turns to look at the linen closet, starring at it like he’s never seen it before. “Why? Since when?”

“I usually keep it there. You never do laundry.” 

“You usually keep secret lube hidden in the linen closet.“ Grantaire says, mouth agape.

Enjolras shrugs. Before, Grantaire had always seemed more comfortable thinking of Enjolras as uninterested in anything sexual. Enjolras had worried Grantaire would have responded badly if he was confronted with such stark evidence that Enjolras masturbated. Besides, Grantaire had always made a great, but futile, effort to hide all evidence when he took care of himself. It had seemed polite to show the same discretion.

Grantaire kicks off the single pant-leg and goes to the linen closet. “Should I be worried what else you’ve got hidden in here?” He asks as he start digging through the sheets. It only takes him a moment to find the bottle. Enjolras had not bothered hiding it very well, since Grantaire has not changed or washed a sheet in at least 5 years.

“Like what, a dildo?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire stops in the middle of inspecting the label and turns to look at Enjolras, eyes wide. “If you have a dildo hidden somewhere in the apartment you have to tell me. But you also have to be prepared that I’ll need at least five minutes to recover from that.”

“There are no dildos.” Enjolras promises.

Grantaire looks like he can’t decide whether he is relieved or disappointed. He walks back to the bed quickly, only stopping when he is standing between Enjolras’ knees. Enjolras has to crane his head to look at him. 

Grantaire drops the bottle in Enjolras’ lap. “Tell me what you’ve been doing with that.” Grantaire says, and there is a hint of the command-voice Grantaire rarely uses, although the effect is slightly ruined by a hitch in his breathing.

“Jerking off mostly.” Enjolras says, leaning forward. Grantaire smells really good. He wants him back in the bed.

“In here?” 

“In the bathroom. Like you.”

Grantaire huffs. “Of course you knew about that.” 

Grantaire had only ever masturbated in the shower if he knew that Enjolras was not in the building. This had  worked to wash away any scent Enjolras might have noticed otherwise. Enjolras h ad often worked it out anyway from other context clues. He knew the signs of post-orgasm in Grantaire. He had always kept close attention when Grantaire came back from a night with someone else.

“How often?” Grantaire asks.

“Usually when you had one of those dreams that made you smell like sex.”

“Oh Apollo,” Grantaire says, voice shaky. He takes Enjolras’ face between his hands “You had secret lube because you were thinking of me. You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Who else would I be thinking about?”

“The mother country?” Grantaire suggests, amusement in his voice. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It is just that I didn’t let myself think of you in the shower, because then I wouldn’t have been able to look you in the eye after. But I suppose I’d forgotten to consider that you have no shame.”

Enjolras stiffens. He had never considered what Grantaire was  thinking about in the shower , but now the idea of Grantaire thinking about somebody else – ... Grantaire sleeping with others was something Enjolras was used to, something separate and contained in his head. Grantaire would only go if Enjolras let him, and he would come back a few hours later. He would come back and he would smell of Enjolras like always. But the idea of Grantaire thinking of somebody else in the shower, when Enjolras had thought he was home and safe and  _his_ – Enjolras is caught off-guard by the wave of anger that hits him.

“_Who-_” Enjolras begins, cutting himself off when it comes out a growl.

Grantaire startles, his amusement slipping into a frown. “Oh no, that was my bad wasn’t it?”

Enjolras can feel the growl still rumbling in his chest, can feel the possessive anger just below the surface, the urge to keep Grantaire close where nobody but Enjolras can touch him – Enjolras recoils mentally. He shrugs off Grantaire’s hands and shifts back. This is exactly the kind of headspace he was trying to avoid. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t-“

“Hey, no. No big deal.” Grantaire interrupts, grabbing Enjolras’ shoulder, stopping his retreat. “I’m in charge remember? I’ve got this, I’ve got you.” He catches Enjolras’ eyes and then deliberately presses his thumb into the spot where he had bitten Enjolras before. His heartbeat and the hand on Enjolras’ throat completely steady.

Enjolras’ stomach jolts. “You can only do that because I let you.” Enjolras says. Not protesting, but rather asking Grantaire to continue. 

Grantaire drops his knees onto the bed and hooks his hands beneath Enjolras’ thighs. He starts pulling Enjolras to him, slowly. “Yeah, exactly. I only have as much power as you give me. Which makes me very powerful, because you would give me as much as I want.” Grantaire pauses as Enjolras is pulled the last bit into his lap, before finishing “I’m yours, but you’re mine too.” 

Grantaire kisses him then. Enjolras surrenders to it with relief, letting Grantaire’s mouth on his own wipe everything else from his mind. The anger and worry and guilt drowned out by want. Want is an easy emotions to be full of, with Grantaire smelling of the same. It is okay the possessiveness is still there, hiding in the want. The burn of it feels less dangerous when Grantaire is the one holding him in place, kissing him hungrily. It feels more like an answer, a response, than the bottomless pit it usually is.

“See? Nothing to worry about. You’re easy for me.” Grantaire says. He hikes Enjolras higher up his lap, so he can duck his head beneath Enjolras’ chin and press a kiss against his throat. 

For a moment Enjolras is overwhelmed with how much he loves this man. He can always trust Grantaire to nudge him back into balance. Grantaire is the expert at Enjolras-wrangling, and it is expertise Grantaire has come by honestly, with hard work. Grantaire has never hesitated to throw himself in Enjolras’ way when Enjolras started slipping too much in any direction. What knowledge Grantaire has is accumulated over nearly 200 years of reckless trial and error. Even long before Grantaire had any idea what kind of power he had over Enjolras, he could always be trusted to be there, trying to help. Enjolras tightens his arms around Grantaire’s back, trying to pull him closer. It’s not enough. Grantaire is always there but never close enough. 

“Very easy. You found lube, won’t you fuck me now?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire exhales a groan against Enjolras’ throat. “Yeah, absolutely.” He says, and his hands runs up along Enjolras’ sides beneath his t-shirt, skimming across his ribs. “You need to be wearing less for that.” 

Enjolras doesn’t need telling twice. He leans back and pulls off his t-shirt. He hears some of the stitches in it tear in the process, but Enjolras really couldn’t care any less. He flings the t-shirt away without looking where it lands. 

Grantaire laughs at Enjolras’ prompt response. He drops a kiss on Enjolras’ bare shoulder before tipping Enjolras onto his back and pulling on Enjolras’ underwear. Enjolras wiggles to help him and then the underwear is off and flung in the same direction the t-shirt went. 

Grantaire pauses on his knees between Enjolras’ legs, his eyes running slowly over Enjolras. “Over 200-years on this earth and you’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Grantaire says. 

Enjolras huffs and hooks his leg around Grantaire’s back, a not so subtle hint he should get closer. “You should be wearing less too.” He points out.

“You’re not in charge.” Grantaire grins, leaning down. He takes hold of Enjolras’ jaw and kisses him. 

The kiss and the warm press of skin against his chest makes Enjolras melt. It’s over too fast for his taste. Grantaire sits up again, holding a hand on Enjolras’ chest to keep him where he is. It occurs to Enjolras then, looking up at Grantaire, that even if he doesn’t care about his own appearance, Grantaire had just paid him a compliment. For the sake of Grantaire’s self-esteem, it was a good rule of thumb to always say something in return. Before Enjolras can think of something to say though, Grantaire is picking up the bottle of lube – and that shouldn’t take precedence, but it does. It very much does.

The click of the bottle opening seems much louder than it has been any of the times Enjolras has used it. 

“Earlier, when you said you “mostly” used this to jerk off.” Grantaire says while squirting lube into his hand. “What else have you done?”

“Fingers, a few times” Enjolras says, trailing off when Grantaire kisses his knee, and then hooks Enjolras’ leg over his shoulder in a practical, no-nonsense way that spreads Enjolras’ legs wide open.

“Only a few because you didn’t like it?” Grantaire asks. It takes Enjolras a moment to answer because it is hard to stay focused on conversation when it feels like his entire body is going to burst into flames any second now through sheer anticipation.

“No, but it took longer. Didn’t seem efficient.”

“Efficient,” Grantaire huffs amused, and pushes the first slick finger into Enjolras.

It is immediately very different from the few times Enjolras has done this to himself. First of all, Grantaire’s finger is slightly bigger than Enjolras’ own and secondly, warm. Enjolras knew that already, but hadn’t anticipated how the combination of _ bigger_ and  _warm_ would make him intensely aware of every inch of the intrusion, from fingertip to knuckle. The sensation is neither good or bad at the moment, just very  _present_ .

Grantaire slowly pulls the finger back again, crooking it in a way that pushes the sensation solidly into the good column. Enjolras makes an encouraging noise.

“Huh” Grantaire breathes. “I just realized; you’ve got real good muscle control.” He withdraws his finger and then immediately pushes back in with three. They slide in just as easy as the first did. “This is like with blowjobs. You can just… make yourself relax.”

“Yeah” Enjolras admits, slightly distracted by the discovery that three warm fingers sinking inside him is a solidly good sensation even without Grantaire crooking them. 

Grantaire hums thoughtfully, and then does crook his fingers, at the same time that he turns his head and bites the inside of Enjolras’ thigh. It feels like several nerve endings explode all at once, an overwhelming mix of  _wrong-good-good-please._ Enjolras jerks so hard that he nearly dislodges Grantaire while losing all his air in an embarrassing keen. 

“Oh fuck,” Grantaire says, sounding breathless. “You okay?” He asks, stroking Enjolra’s hip with the hand not currently inside Enjolras.

Enjolras feels lightheaded. He nods and reaches for Grantaire’s hand. “I’ll come if you keep doing that. Can you...” He trails off, not sure what he wants beyond more skin contact. He tugs weakly at Grantaire’s hand.

Grantaire pulls his fingers out and then shifts up to kiss Enjolras. “This?” Grantaire asks, settling on top of Enjolras.

“Yes yes yes...” Enjolras murmurs in approval, shifting to wrap his legs around Grantaire, slotting their hips together. Then: “R...” He complains, when closeness makes it clear that Grantaire is still wearing his boxers.

“No, shit, you’re right. You were right. These needs off, these should have been off,” Grantaire says, untangling himself enough to get them off. 

Enjolras laughs, the desperate want for  _more_ and  _closer_ momentarily overshadowed by the absurdity of the moment. 

“Yeah, yeah, I forgot them. I’m only human and you are ridiculously hot, Enjolras,” Grantaire says, finally kicking the boxers away. Enjolras has to cover his face with his hands as Grantaire does so because Grantaire is looking at them like they have betrayed him deeply, and Enjolras can’t stop snickering. 

“You were right, I should have done that before.” Grantaire mutters. His hands are on Enjolras’ legs again, pulling and nudging to make space so he can shuffle back between them. Enjolras stops laughing then, and removes his hands from his face, because one of Grantaire’s hands are slicker than before. He must have grabbed the lube while Enjolras wasn’t looking. 

Grantaire leans down and starts kissing along Enjolras’ cheek, chin, jaw, shoulder - anything he can reach while pushing three slick fingers into Enjolras again. Feeling cheated, Enjolras makes a weak noise of protest.

“See this is why I never suggested anal. You get so impatient when I try to do something slow.” Grantaire huffs, twisting his fingers in a way that has Enjolras squirming.

“Grantaire, I appreciate you want to be thorough, but unless your dick has somehow turned poisonous to vampires overnight, you can’t hurt me like this.” 

And then it is Grantaire’s turn to laugh, warm bursts of breath hitting Enjolras’ shoulder. “God, imagine that. The little death indeed.” He snickers, removing his fingers and  stroking down Enjolras’ thigh.

“I’d go happy at least.” Enjolras muses.

“Doing what you love.” Grantaire continues for him, still snickering. He pulls at Enjolras’ thighs, and Enjolras eagerly shifts his legs so Grantaire can shuffle closer. 

“Meaning you.”

Grantaire hums in agreement and brushes a light kiss along Enjolras’ jaw, just as he –  _finally_ \- sinks inside Enjolras.

It feels like Enjolras loses all the air in his lungs for a moment – which is fine because he doesn’t actually need to breathe. It is more than fine, it is  _perfect, _ it is exactly what Enjolras wanted. Grantaire is above him and around him and inside him, and when Grantaire starts rocking his hips experimentally the next moments it feels really good. Not as concentrated as the sharp pleasure the twist of Grantaire’s fingers had been, but more diffused, like waves spreading out through his body.

Enjolras tightens both arms and legs around Grantaire and murmurs “Getting done by who I love,” which comes out more of a moan than he had intended.

Grantaire laughs unsteadily. He lengthens his thrust, pulling out further before pushing back in. And oh that is better, each wave building on top of each other. Enjolras groans with pleasure and runs a shaky hand down Grantaire’s back, feeling  Grantaire’s muscles ripple and shift with his movements.

“This was – this is such a good idea. You were right, you’re always right. Look at you, you’re loving this.” Grantaire says between uneven breaths. “You have the best ideas, come here.” He pulls at Enjolras’ legs, slowing down long enough to hook them up, one over his shoulder the other over his elbow, folding Enjolras in half, before picking up his pace.

Enjolras has a few moments to appreciate how this position leaves him very little leverage, and to wonder if Grantaire could hold him there if he tried to get out, even with his supernatural strength. The next moment Grantaire finds a devastating angle that has Enjolras gasping and squirming in surprise – squirming without getting anywhere because Grantaire does have him pinned. Grantaire then ruthlessly hits that same angle with every following thrust. Enjolras has enough presence of mind to remove his hands from Grantaire’s back, so he doesn’t accidentally hurt him, just before Grantaire proceeds to take Enjolras apart.

It is overwhelming. He is completely surrounded by Grantaire. Grantaire above him unsteadily murmuring praise under his breath, Grantaire around him holding him in place, and Grantaire pushing inside him so perfectly Enjolras is certain he can feel it in every cell of his body, to the tip of his fingers and top of his head. Enjolras is vaguely aware of making desperate keening noises with every breath, but doesn’t think he could stop even if he cared enough to try. Then Grantaire’s hand is on his cock and Enjolras comes instantly. It is a relief after a build-up so intense. Enjolras feels like a fuse that has been burning for to long, finally exploding.

“Fuckfuckfuck, you should be illegal,” Grantaire gasps. He doesn’t stop moving after Enjolras has come, but does slow down a great deal. Enjolras’ leg has fallen off his shoulder. Enjolras hooks the leg around Grantaire’s waist instead, making a pleased noise that comes out as a rumble. Grantaire moving inside him still feels good, but in a less urgent, almost lazy way. After a moment he remembers his arms and wraps them around Grantaire again too. 

Enjolras feels languid, like he is floating inside his own body. This might be why it takes several moments before he notices how unsteady Grantaire’s thrusts have become, how the pattern of his breathing means he is close too.

“R, come here.” Enjolras shifts his other leg out of the crook of Grantaire’s elbow and wraps that around him as well. At the same time he nudges Grantaire’s arm out from under him, making all of Grantaire’s weight fall on Enjolras.

“You’re so bad at not being in charge.” Grantaire laughs shakily, short of breath. He shifts a little to adjust to the new position, then grinds down into Enjolras, at the same time that he bites down on Enjolras’ shoulder, and comes like that.

It is almost more of a shock to Enjolras’ system than it was the first time Grantaire bit him. Enjolras had thought Grantaire biting him was the worst possible insult to his vampire instincts. But no, coming inside him  while biting him is obviously even worse. Enjolras feels a little giddy as an abrupt sting of  _wrong_ rears it head at this new affront only for Enjolras to crush it down immediately. Grantaire is biting him and coming in him and  _claiming him_ , and Enjolras is going to let him. He is going to stroke Grantaire’s back while he catches his breath and consider how many times they can do that again before Enjolras has to get up to go meet Bahorel.

Grantaire, apparently thinking along the same lines, says hoarsely “We should just...never leave this bed again.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras agrees. “But I already have plans around noon.”

“Okay,” Grantaire murmurs “_I’ll_ never leave this bed again. You do your thing and I can just nap until you come back. I need more sleep than you anyway.”

“I could bring back food.” Enjolras agrees readily. He likes this idea more than he should, Grantaire forever safe in his bed. If Enjolras needed to go do something he could just schedule it while Grantaire slept.

Grantaire drops a kiss on Enjolras’ shoulder before pulling away. As Grantaire untangles himself and sits up, Enjolras keeps hold of his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Was gonna get a towel… but no, that’s too far to walk,” Grantaire explains. He reaches over to the nightstand and riffles through one of the drawers for a moment, before pulling out a box of wet wipes. He clumsily wipes the worst off of both of them before flopping onto his back next to Enjolras with a groan. 

Enjolras immediately rolls on top of him, wrapping every limb around him again and pressing his face into Grantaire’s shoulder. 

“So I think that went well,” Grantaire says, tangling a hand in Enjolras’ hair. “How’re you feeling?” 

“I want to do that at least once more before I have to get up.”

Grantaire groans, Enjolras can feel the vibrations of it beneath his cheek. “You’re really good for my ego.” Grantaire says, tugging lightly at Enjolras’ hair. “I  will do that as many times as you want , but I’ll  probably  need to re-hydrate and a snack or something.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Enjolras offers. He lifts his head to check the quality of the light coming in through the crack in the curtains. It is still early. They have several hours to work with, which means he can stay right here a bit longer. “Later”, he mumbles and settles back down, burying his face in Grantaire’s warm skin again. Grantaire smells of both of them and happy post-orgasm hormones, which is one of Enjolras’ favorite scents. 

“Yeah, later is good.” Grantaire agrees, “I’d rather not have to move right now. I feel like part of my spine melted.” 

“Your spine is fine.” Enjolras mumbles, not bothering to lift his head.

“It feels weird.” Grantaire insists, mostly to himself. 

Enjolras only hums in reply. Grantaire is welcome to pretend something is wrong with his spine, if it means Enjolras does not have to move. He has everything he needs right here, listening to their breathing sync up as Grantaire absentmindedly pets his hair. When Enjolras’ breathing has shifted enough to match Grantaire’s perfectly, it almost sounds like the two sets of lungs are connected, like they move in the same body, rather than two separate ones.

“You ever think of Plato?” Enjolras asks.

“...Not really?”

“_There was a time, I say, when we were one, but now because of the wickedness of mankind God has dispersed us._" Enjolras recites.

“That’s from the Symposium, right?” Grantaire asks. “Aristophanes part?”

Enjolras nods, “I’ve been thinking about it.”

He can practically hear Grantaire’s frown. “What about it?”

Enjolras sighs and lifts himself up so he can look at Grantaire, while quickly skipping through his memory of the text. He settles on: “ _After the division the two parts of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one,_ ”

“Oh..._oh!_” Grantaire says. It is clear he understands because he gets that overwhelmed expression he wears when Enjolras says something he did not expect. “Okay. That. Yeah.”

Enjolras can tell Grantaire is only making noises to stall while he gathers himself, so he waits patiently the few seconds it takes for Grantaire’s expression to settle.

“Okay, yeah, that’s good, I see what you mean” Grantaire says, a little more steady. “I’m not sure we came from the same block, originally, but yeah, I’m with you on the longing. How does it go?...There’s a bit with Hephaestus?”

“_Do you desire to be wholly one; always day and night to be in one another's company? For if this is what you desire, I am ready to melt you into one and let you grow together, so that being two you shall become one, and while you live live as if you were a single man, and after your death in the world below still be one departed soul instead of two._” Enjolras recites.

“Yes, that. You know I would say yes to that. I told you before, everything is better when I’m with you. But yeah, Plato said it better. It sounds...really nice”

“It does,” Enjolras agrees.

Grantaire studies Enjolras’ face for a moment, before smiling. “You are a real sap, Apollo.”

Enjolras refrains from pointing out that when it came to showing affection, subtlety has proven time and time again to fly right over Grantaire’s head. He simply kisses Grantaire instead, feeling relieved to have succeeded in explaining some small part of  what he feels to Grantaire. 

“I guess I should brush up on the Symposium,” Grantaire muses as Enjolras settles back down, rubbing his cheek against Grantaire’s shoulder. “You could read it to me from memory, that way I won’t have to get out of bed.”

“I could. Do you have any specific parts in mind or do you want to go from the top?”

”Hmm...” Grantaire kisses the top of Enjolras’ head. “I’m kinda curious what parts you would pick.”

“There’s the part where Plato insist Achilles bottomed.”

Grantaire laughs, “Oh yeah, absolutely, start with that.”


End file.
